


Winner

by DickBaggins



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drunk Dean, Fluff, Incest, Kissing, M/M, Teen Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-23
Updated: 2015-03-23
Packaged: 2018-03-19 07:45:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3601989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DickBaggins/pseuds/DickBaggins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean wins a drinking contest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winner

Sam reclined on the hood of the car, back jammed up against the windshield, checking the time on his phone. Again. 45 minutes since Dean sauntered into the roadhouse, saying something about making a quick buck so they could eat better than drive-thru. Which meant he was hustling pool or embroiled in poker and hopefully nothing worse than that. The place didn’t even look too rough, actually, so Sam was considering poking his head in and making sure everything was okay. Even with a fake ID he'd never pass for much over his sixteen years, and he didn't want to jeopardize whatever Dean was doing in there, but he had to do something.

He was already, nervously, approaching the door when it swung open and someone tumbled out in a rush  of noise and light and  _swearing_  and it was Dean, and he was fucking hammered. He yelled at the closed door, something about  _reporting this place to the bureau of shit bars I’m never coming back to_ , a fraction of an inch from kicking at the door.

But Sam grabbed his shoulders and hauled him back, ignoring the flailing protests and throwing his still-new weight around to get Dean back to the car. Dean radiated whiskey and anger, blinking up stupidly at Sam but, at least slung under his little brother’s arm like that, he calmed down a bit.

“What happened?” Sam asked, got halfway to the passenger side with his brother in tow before Dean shrugged him off and cuffed him weakly on the back of the head.

“Nothin’,” Dean muttered, leaning against the door, watching Sam through heavy eyes.

“So…you didn’t get food money?” Sam asked, leaning in to try and open the door but Dean wasn’t moving, he was just staring at his brother, taking a few long seconds to register the question. He patted down his front pockets, dove his hands inside, started teetering to the left while he was doing it, not even noticing. Sam made a face but grabbed the right shoulder of Dean’s jacket, easily hauling him straight upright. “Dean, you were going in for money and you came out smashed, just-”

“Money,” Dean grunted, his face lighting up in a stupid grin while he brought his hand out of his jacket, flashing a thick fold of bills at Sam. Way more than he should be flashing in a bar parking lot at midnight, and Sam snatched it away quick, leaving Dean blinking at the sudden absence.

Sam did a cursory thumb-through before he stashed the money away, still grasping Dean’s shoulder. It was more than he usually made at pool or poker.

“Jeez you’re big,” Dean blurted out. “Like I go in a bar and turn around and come back out and you’re a fucking monster, what the fuck.”

Sam rolled his eyes, slapping Dean on the shoulder and trying to open the door around his heavy weight again, failing because Dean wouldn’t move, just stood staring at Sam in the yellowy parking lot glow. 

“I tell you a won a drinking contest?” Dean said, low and sudden, his mouth curving into a proud little smirk. 

Sam nodded; that made sense. He knew Dean didn’t get into that shit a lot but he knew when he had some marks, knew when he could win, and sometimes it was more lucrative than pool or cards, although the hangovers seemed to even it out. “Good job, now move,” Sam tried to shoulder past him but Dean still didn’t move, latched on to Sam’s coat and his smirk widened into a grin, beautiful even with his flushed face and the whiskey breath and his eyes all heavy and blinksome. 

Dean tugged on Sam’s coat, sudden and too strong to fight and okay, Sam didn’t want to fight anyway, knew it was a losing battle. He was getting used to the newish height difference still, and so was Dean, but Dean looked gorgeous with his head straining up, tilting at Sam, eyes sinking closed before they even kissed. Sam had to put a big hand on Dean’s face to keep him in place once their lips slid together, warm and surprisingly gentle considering Dean’s state. Sam closed his eyes too, felt Dean’s heavy lashes fluttering against him, Deans hands grasping hard at his coat like he might fall down if he let go.

Sam pulled back tasting like whiskey and his brother and Dean was finally dazed enough to actually move, to be easily shoved in the front seat where he happily slumped towards the driver’s side, even before Sam got in. In fifteen minutes, they were spending the wad of hard-earned cash at a diner, a nice one where the tables were clean and the lights didn’t buzz broken and no one looked twice at Dean tucked under Sam’s long arms, drunkenly fighting his way through the apple pie. 


End file.
